


By The Light of the Silvery Moon

by Frangipanidownunder



Category: The X-Files
Genre: F/M, Family Fluff, Season 11
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-19
Updated: 2019-08-19
Packaged: 2020-09-07 11:53:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,357
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20309047
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Frangipanidownunder/pseuds/Frangipanidownunder
Summary: Could you write something where Mulder reprimands his daughter for the first time, she starts crying and suddenly feels bad about it ?





	By The Light of the Silvery Moon

The seedlings had pushed through the rich brown earth. Pairs of vibrant green leaves spread wide open as though celebrating freedom. He watched the water sprinkle from the can with a sense of satisfaction. Nurturing seeds from pod to fruit had become a way to measure more than just the passage of time; the psychologist in him (though, honestly, was he even up to date with the current thinking in that field?) told him he was quantifying his self-worth through the harvest. 

He could just hear Scully scoffing at that. “Juicy tomatoes and a crisp beans, Mulder, are not an appraisal of your state of mind. It just proves you’re a good gardener.”

High in the sky, the full moon told him it was time to harvest the herbs for drying. “What do you think of that, Mr Man-in-the-Moon?” He held up a bunch of aromatic parsley. Limned in the silvery light, it shone. “Pasta primavera later?” 

The Man winked. Behind him, Muffin whimpered before howling softly. He rubbed the soft space between her ears and she trotted back to the house with him.Scully dropped her toothbrush into the glass on the vanity. “You okay, Mulder?” He held up his hands, fresh earth clinging under his fingernails. “Sometimes I think I should move our bed into the greenhouse.” There was a beat before she grinned.

“You’re like a spine,” he said, pressing a kiss to his favourite spot between her ear and her neck.

“What?”

“You get kinkier with age.”

He slept well, those nights he talked to his plants, those nights he felt the earth fold and separate under his touch, those nights where his lungs were filled with clean, new air. It was as though he breathed in hope. He was keen for Esther to join him. He’d bought her a mini garden tool kit but so far she hadn’t expressed an interest. Scully draped an arm over his chest, stroking the hairs between her gentle fingers. Her breasts against his ribcage, her knee pushing gently into his groin, her lips brushing his jawline, he knew he would sleep well tonight. For non-lunar reasons.

Outside, he could hear the dog barking up a storm. Scully flicked through the Sunday papers, hair falling over her face so she kept having to hook it over her ears. She wore her new glasses, gold frames just like back in the day. There was a glow about her. He wasn’t conceited enough (well, not any more) to attribute it to his performance. But if seeds and plants performed better by the moon’s cycles, he wondered under what celestial body’s thrall, his wife was held that she could continually grow more beautiful every year.

The universe had sometimes treated them poorly. But right now, he was happy to take its gifts.

She looked up, caught him studying her. She smiled. She wasn’t surprised. After all, he’d spent decades staring at her.

“Esther’s very quiet.”

She was right. “An X-File, Scully?”

“Any time a three-year-old is preternaturally silent, it’s wise to launch an investigation.”

“I’ll grab my flashlight and EMF meter. Be right back.”

Biting the arm of her glasses, she grinned that full Scully smile and he determined he really would be right back as soon as their errant daughter allowed.

He found Muffin first, tongue lolling out, paws wet with mud. She did an entire body shake and soil flew out in all directions. Esther emerged from behind the greenhouse with a hand full of seedlings. Her turquoise pyjama top was buttoned crookedly, her gum boots were on the wrong feet, there was one braid in her hair. 

“I found Muffin in the greenhouse,” she said emphatically, placing her dirty hands on her hips. “She’s a naughty puppy.”

Muffin whimpered but held her ground as Mulder walked into the greenhouse and inspected the trays of plants, upturned, plugs pulled out. There was damage on every shelf. He took a deep breath, felt the twitch of irritation flicker in his throat. 

He began with the beans. Picking them up and trying to salvage the strongest plants. He heard the scrape of the foot stool over the concrete floor. Esther clambered up, small fingers gripping the middle shelf, teeth clasping bottom lip.

“Did you see Muffin do it?” He carefully pressed the soil back into the pot. She followed suit, and he tried not to grimace too hard as she stuffed a broken stem back into the earth and it flopped over and over under her heavy-handedness.She didn’t reply. 

The tomatoes were spared the brunt of the attack. “These should be okay,” he said. “That’s good, isn’t it? But the beans are gone.”

Esther stared at him with wet eyes. “Are they dead?”

He picked up a plant, broken stem weeping. He nodded. “What should we do with Muffin?”

He watched the wobble in her lip, fascinated by its duration. Then the tears literally sprang forth, like his watering can, sprays of them. Esther Scully-Mulder cried theatrically. He didn’t know whether to laugh or cry as dramatically with her.

“Honey, it’s okay. We’ll plant some more.”

“I don’t like beans!” She screamed and jumped off the stool, running back into the yard, Muffin yapping at her heels. She stopped, bashed her fists to her sides and yelled at the dog. “Go away.”

Mulder called after Esther but she didn’t stop. She raced past Scully and stomped her muddy boots through the kitchen, up the stairs, to her room. He followed the trail of footprints and watched from the door as she sobbed into her yellow pillow.

“Solve the case?” Scully whispered behind him.

“Let’s just say it took an unexpected twist.”

“Let her cry for a bit. I’m pretty sure she’ll come around soon.” Her arm snaked around his waist and stroked the exact spot where his guilt rose like sap in a plant under the influence of the waxing moon.

It took approximately seven minutes for Esther to wring herself dry. Sitting up, she hiccoughed, wiped the snot from her nose and tugged the band from the braid, releasing her wild hair.

Scully sat on the end of her bed. “Why did you do it, sweetie?”

“I hate beans.”

“Hate is a very strong word, Esther. We try not to use it, remember.”

Her nose crinkled and fresh tears welled. “But we always have to eat the stuff Daddy grows and sometimes I don’t like it.”

“What would you like to eat instead?” He sat on the floor, under the window.

“Quick things.”

Mulder smiled. “You mean fast food?”

She nodded. “Your plants take so long.”

“All good things come to those who wait,” Scully said. “Besides, we want you to grow up big and strong. Fresh food helps.”

“I hate beans.”

“You just had to tell me,” Mulder said. “You didn’t have to rip them all out. And blame the dog.”

Scully’s eyes widened at this revelation. Esther crumpled into a fresh round of crying. Outside, Muffin howled with empathy.

They ordered pizza. Muffin curled up inside the diamond of Esther’s bent legs. She fed her the crusts. 

Mulder dropped the packets of seeds in front of them. The dog sniffed them but turned her face away.

Esther looked at the pictures. “Carrots aren’t purple, Daddy.”

“Tomatoes aren’t black and stripy, either. But they used to be. They’re called heirloom plants. Want to help me plant them?”

She nodded. “Sorry I killed your beans.”

“I’m more sorry you blamed Muffin. Lying is bad, remember?” He smoothed her hair between his fingers. She sniffed.

“Want to hear something spooky?”

“Mulder,” Scully warned.

Smiling, he dipped his head to their daughter’s ear and whispered until Esther giggled.

“What are you two conspiring about?”

Esther covered her mouth with both hands and laughed. “Daddy said he can lie no longer. He hates beans too.”

The moon was bright. Scully sat on a chair, with Muffin on her lap, humming to Hozier. Esther spent most of the time talking to the man-in-the-moon rather than helping but Mulder was content to garden by the sound of his brightest planets in his universe.


End file.
